


blood on my hands (like the blood in you)

by jeserai



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, also idk if its like..Graphic Depictions Of Violence but better to be safe, horde prime dies..as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25837342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeserai/pseuds/jeserai
Summary: Long ago, if someone asked, Catra would have said she feared nothing—not with Adora by her side. Together, with Adora’s sword and her claws...well, nothing could truly stand in their way for long. And nothing has. Not Shadow Weaver, not the Rebellion, not even Hordak. Etheria belongs to the Horde now—to their Horde—and Catra was satisfied, but Adora…
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 138





	blood on my hands (like the blood in you)

**Author's Note:**

> ummm pls read the tags <3

Long ago, if someone asked, Catra would have said she feared nothing—not with Adora by her side. Together, with Adora’s sword and her claws...well, nothing could truly stand in their way for long.

And nothing has. Not Shadow Weaver, not the Rebellion, not even Hordak. Etheria belongs to the Horde now—to  _ their  _ Horde—and Catra was satisfied, but Adora…

(Months ago, Catra had gone to bed alone and woken up to find Adora stumbling back into their room, blood on her hands and on her face. “It’s not mine,” Adora managed to say, voice rough and scratchy. Before she can tell Catra to go back to sleep, she’s already vaulting out of their bed to follow Adora to the showers to help her wash clean and check for wounds. But Adora had been right: none of the blood was hers, and she was completely unwounded, completely unchanged but for the startling redness of her once-blue eyes.

And now she’s—)

Adora wants more: more sparring, more war, more blood on steel, and Catra feels real  _ fear _ for the first time in her life as she tries desperately to think of a way to satisfy her everything.

So she started the Games.

A challenge to take the title of Horde Lord, a one on one battle with a barehanded Adora. At the very beginning, she used her sword, but all too soon she grew weary of cleaning the blood slicking her blade, of the steady stream of victories laced with screams and the scent of blood on the earth. Catra can still remember the way Adora turned to look up at her with that bored expression written all over her face, her face just as red as her eyes.

And so Catra changed the rules. A barehand Adora against anyone with a weapon and a deathwish, anyone too brave or too foolish or just plain desperate. Then Adora against groups of fives, tens. And then the challenges stopped entirely as people eventually became too smart or too scared, and Adora was left staring up at an ever-watching Catra with something like disappointment on her face.

And then Entrapta. The princess who swore fealty so long as she was allowed her freedom to invent and experiment. Adora wanted to kill her on the spot, but Entrapta said she had valuable information about the princesses, and the feeble last attempt at a rebellion, and she was so very right.

So the princess turned Force Captain stays.

(When Catra asked, all Entrapta said was that she could get so much more done with them than in a cell, or dead.)

And she does. First simple things; weapons and robots for Adora to amuse herself with, but then bigger things, things that kept her up all night, things that made the lights in the Fright Zone flicker and die. When Catra loses her patience and demands to know what she’s doing, it is with tired eyes and a bright smile that Entrapta explains: “A  _ portal. _ ”

A portal to someplace  _ else,  _ to another land with better tech (and more enemies). All Entrapta knows is that it leads to some kind of building, and that it is in  _ space. _

As soon as Entrapta declares the portal to be finished, Adora steps through with a fierce light in her eyes, her hand already falling to the grip of her sword. Before Catra can follow, Entrapta warns her that the portal isn’t exactly  _ stable,  _ that they won’t have much time to come back if they choose to. And Catra pauses, because—this could mean the last she’ll see of Adora, the last time she’ll be afraid of those crimson eyes and that cold smile, the last time she’ll wake up and find Adora staring at her like she’s imagining all the different ways she could kiss her or kill her.

It isn’t even a question. Catra takes one step into the portal and takes the next step out onto a huge ship—a spaceship, huge and perfect and silent but for the sound of a familiar blade leaving flesh, and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The pristine white of the ship is marred by the red of spilt blood, and Adora  _ still  _ looks so bored that Catra’s blood chills.

The man at the head of the ship calls himself Horde Prime, and they (all Adora, Catra knows) have done so much damage in so little time that he actually looks interested. Countless clones like the ones Adora has already slain lead them to another room, and they sit down for dinner with Prime. None of them eat. Catra has her eyes on Adora, who is watching Prime eagerly, that look Catra knows all so well written on her face. Adora is going to kill Horde Prime, Catra realizes, and there is nothing he will be able to do about it.

But Adora listens to Prime explain what he’s in the midst of doing: cleansing the universe, conquering the galaxy one planet at a time, spreading order and perfection throughout the stars.  _ That  _ catches Catra’s ear, and Prime asks if they would like to join his glory and work at his side, but Adora runs him through just the day after they meet. Catra steps primly over his body, examining the maps of all the planets he’s conquered and has not yet visited, turns to Adora— “Adora, it’s all ours,” she says slowly, “the entire  _ galaxy,  _ all to hold in our hands.”

“Or to burn down,” Adora’s voice is gravelly and pleased and if she notices the bright green blood spattered across her face, she does not care.

Carefully, slowly, Catra steps close, and nods. “I’ll give it all to you,” she promises, and with one trembling hand, wipes away the blood, traces the soft curve of Adora’s cheek, kisses her just once.

Adora does not seem to notice Catra at all even after this, her attention fixed fully on all of the space spread out before them. She is perhaps already imagining the planets ahead, the blood that will kiss her sword, maybe even the person that might give her a fight.

And then her gaze slides back to Catra with sudden interest, and the blood freezes in Catra’s veins all at once. But Adora just smiles, sweeter than honey, sharper than the edge of a blade, and very deliberately takes her hand away from her sword.

“It’s all mine,” she says, and it’s true. The planet, the galaxy, Catra—all hers, until she grows tired of it, and then—

“Yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> me posting yesterday that all of my wips have catradora moonlight/starlight waltz and then immediately posting this.............i can go a little unhinged, as a treat <3


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